Visiting the Anomalies of America

After farewelling the last of his friends, Harry decides to take some time off Britain and travel the world - search for a new purpose. He starts off in America and is soon bored. Being known internationally for all its "abnormalities", Harry decides to seek them out, hoping to make some new friends. Immortal Master of Death AU; Slash

9. Chapter 8

For some reason, Harry felt the need to be alone right at the time. With that, he quietly excused himself, mumbling a polite goodbye to Coulson – because how could he ever forget the manners drilled in him all those years ago? – and slipped out of the room in record time; before anyone could say otherwise. It was late afternoon by that time, and many of the resident students were lingering about, making idle chit-chat. Some who he was acquainted to looked up at his approach and had smiled, occasionally greeting him. Harry merely nodded and pulled a tight smile as he made his way around the mansion, heading to his room.

Once he was inside, he pushed the door closed gently behind him, sighing at the relief of the solitude feeling that washed over him as he heard the click of the door shutting. Harry then proceeded to completely ignore the lush, alluring sight of his bed in favour of plopping down onto the floor, leaning his back against the side frame of his bed. His legs were pulled up to his chest and his hands wrapping around his knees, breathing in and out steadily, basking in the silence of his room.

Since his first night at the Mansion, Harry had taken to accordingly ward and charm his own room with countless different spells – a habit he had picked up from his ‘travels’ with Ron and Hermione when they were 17. Although most were for protection and warding, there were some other ones such as privacy and silencing wards that would allow him to enjoy the safety of the room without having to need to worry too much about his actions and others overhearing or abruptly entering.

As Harry himself was unsure what exactly he was doing here, he simply sat there on the ground for some time; listening to the sounds that his wards allowed into the room, and feeling his own heart beat against his chest. He closed his eyes, sighing and leaning back against the bed; in a rare show of relaxation.

After a few moments, Harry’s eyes snapped open as a thought flit through his head. Unslinging his pouch from his side and pulling it in front of him, he reached in a hand and muttered soft accio spells. Pulling out, his hand cradled what looked like four thick cards with various coloured edges and pictures on them. Carefully placing aside his pouch, he spread the cards out on the floor, having pushed himself into a kneeling position. His fingers tingled as he gathered a little bit of his magic and whispered “engorgio” on each one. Increasing in size, it was revealed that the ‘cards’ were in fact, portraits – blank ones at that. From left to right, he touched them once more to activate them – which would allow the figures belonging to the portraits to freely come and go.

First to rush in were: his parents. Flying in almost maniacally whilst still hilariously managing to hold their hands in a romantic gesture, his parents whipped around to face him, and him their golden framed portrait; a soft smile on his face.

“Harry!” his mother’s soothing voice exclaimed, slightly breathless. “How are you, sweetheart?” she turned to her husband and through a silent agreement they took the loveseat in the portrait together, hands still linked. Harry’s father turned from smiling fondly at his wife to his son.

“Hello son,” he said in an equally calming voice. Harry nodded, muttering polite greetings with his parents. He blushed as his mother started cooing at him like a mother doting on her first child; commenting on how much he’d grown and how handsome he looked.

“Um, I’ve got four of you out,” Harry said slowly, “so is it alright if we wait till the others get here?” His parents nodded understandingly just as an unchanged and scowling figure in black swept in to the portrait to the furthest left side – the one with glossy black borders and intricate carvings on the expensive wood.

“Why, Mr Potter,” drawled a low voice that sent instinctive shivers down his spine and caused both his parents to whip their heads towards the sound. “What business do you have, summoning me here?”

“Prof—”

“Severus?” his mother’s voice called out, and Harry winced slightly. He watched as Snape’s eyes widened in an uncharacteristic show of surprise, and Harry flicked his gaze back to his parents’ portrait to see his mum half-way out of her chair as if she could just walk straight out of the portrait, his father holding her steadily. Snape’s expression was totally scandalized, recovering himself quickly and shooting a glare at Harry.

“Hello Lily,” he said as calmly as possible. Harry rolled his eyes as they began chatting. This was probably one of the only times he had ever pulled out more than one portrait at a time. Not long into his thoughts, Dumbledore came strolling in casually into a dark burnt orange-framed portrait; smiling up at Harry in that instantly recognisably wise face and taking a seat in his own replica of his office in Hogwarts over a century ago. Obviously he had heard the other voices and decided to stay silent for now. Harry could see the mischief dancing in the old man’s eyes. Lastly, Ron and Hermione walked into the last portrait – the one with a rich maroon with intricate carvings painted gold. Ron and Hermione too stayed silent, choosing instead to wave at him energetically, beaming up at him so that it caused a soft smile to touch his own lips. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat to get Snape and his parent’s attentions.

All three’s attention immediately turned to Harry, making him feel a little squeamish at their intensive gazes. Gathering up some courage, he cleared his throat again before opening his mouth. “Uh..” was all that came from his lips, he had drawn up a mental blank. He didn’t notice Hermione’s lip curl up knowingly.

“So, how’s your trip going, Harry?” she piped in. Jerking his head up, he stared slack-jawed for a moment before shaking it off and replying her.

“Oh—uh, great! Yeah…” he trailed off. This time Hermione really rolled her eyes.

“Where did you end up? Where is this? How many places have you been to so far?” she began firing off. She knew Harry had to get loosened up before he would get to the point. Harry’s eyes widening, and he held up a hand to slow her down. His peripheral vision caught that all the other adults casually lounging on whatever furniture was present in their portrait; his parents whispering between one another. No doubt that any of them were keeping an ear out to what he was saying though. Sighing, Harry started with answering Hermione’s questions first.

“Uh this is the X-Mansion, in America. I’ve been here since I left so –”

“Where are you staying? And what in the world is an X-Mansion?” she asked, obviously peeved that she didn’t already know. Harry rolled his eyes dramatically, his teeth peeking from the smile pulling at his lips.

“It’s a sort of boarding school slash asylum for mutants,” he shrugged, shifting into a more comfortable position and propping the portraits up one by one so he didn’t need to crane his neck down to speak to them. Everyone’s brows went up, instantly intrigued. Harry chuckled at the response.

“Mutants, you say?” Dumbledore said, leaning forward in his seat; resting his elbows on his desk and cradling face in his hands. Harry nodded.

“Yes, it’s amazing Professor,” Harry began gushing, thinking about all the lovely people he’d become acquainted to. Everyone’s demeanour relaxed instantly and many had small smiles on their faces as they watched Harry talked animatedly. “Everyone has a unique ability that they can control, and the Professors here help the students learn how to control their powers. I’ve seen all sorts of things!”

“So you’re staying at this... X-Mansion?” Hermione repeated. “How did you get here anyway?” Harry suppressed a cheeky smile as he thought to the events leading up to his arrival there.

“Well, you see; I got here right? But then after a day of just seeing the sights and all that, I got really bored,” he said a little meekly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in slight embarrassment. “Anyway, as you predicted, Ron,” he nodded his head at the redhead. “There were some agents following me around,” he laughed out loud as he recalled them. “They were terrible! They were all wearing black suits and black sunglasses and pretending to be going about their business in broad daylight.” The men; Ron, Dumbledore and James all shared a laugh.

Harry continued recounting his experiences for the past week or so to them animatedly, changing his seating position every now and then and using hand gestures to further animate his speech. He told them about the game he had been playing with the mutants, and about all the amazing abilities he’d seen so far. He spoke about the people he had gotten to know, giving brief descriptions of each. His parents often pitched in comments here and there; Ron and Hermione sometimes asking some questions. Dumbledore and Snape kept silent but he knew that they were listening regardless.

He then got up to the latest part of speaking with the American Ministry representative, his attitude toning down. He spoke slower, occasionally running his hands through his hair in a nervous habit. He talked about the things that were asked, and what kind of memories were dragged up with them. Harry laughed at certain parts – such as William’s indignant attitude at Coulson passing off Aurors as the same to muggle police. Throughout his rant, the portraits remained silent; all knowing that Harry didn’t need comforting words. He just needed to vent some of the stress out. Harry smiled as he got to the parts where Logan and he bickered about his half-truths.

“I told him I was a Defence teacher earlier, and when Will had pointed out my guest-appearances at Hogwarts as the Defence against the Dark Arts lecturer, he had turned to me and said; ‘Defence, huh?’” Harry chuckled light-heartedly, already feeling much better by then. Just at that moment, there was a quick rap on the door before it swung open to reveal – speak of the devil – Logan himself.

“What you doin’ talking to yourself in your room?” he said gruffly, striding in like he owned the place – to Harry’s amusement; Logan did seem like the person who probably thought he owned everything. “An’ speakin’ about me too to boot.” Logan smirked at Harry who was still kneeling awkwardly on the ground. Then his eyes drifted down to the four portraits on the ground and he raised a brow. Harry smiled a little cheekily, proceeding to wave at Logan to come closer.

“Guys,” he said, looking down at the portraits – who had all pretended to be frozen save for Snape who was rolling his eyes – and stole one more glance at Logan to see that the man was looking rather incredulously at him; obviously confirming his suspicions of Harry being insane. “This is Professor Logan,” he dramatically gave a flourish of his hands to point at said man. When Logan seemed to make no move, Harry began to make more frantic gestures for him to take a seat next to him. Admittedly quite hesitant, Logan conceded and unceremoniously plonked down onto the floor – thinking that Harry was probably going to drag him into the land of the insane. Turning to Harry, he saw that Harry was jerking his head at the portraits. With a confused frown, he turned to the portraits to see the beaming figures in them.

“Hello!” said a majority of them, shocking him into jerking in his seat a little. His jaw dropped open and he turned to stare dumbly at Harry for some sort of explanation. Harry laughed openly and Logan sobered up a bit at the openness of Harry’s expression – thinking to himself that it suited the man.

“Logan,” Harry said once he’d calmed down a bit from having seen the look on Logan’s face. “Meet my parents; James and Lily Potter,” he nodded and pointed at the portrait with the brilliant gold framing. The two inside them offered greetings and respective nods, smiling at Logan. He could see quite the resemblance as he glanced at Harry to compare them. The most outstanding quality he inherited were the eyes he got from his mother. He offered up as much of a grin he could that would not look menacing, saying hello to them in return.

“My best friends; Ron and Hermione Weasley,” Harry continued, motioning to the Gryffindor-framed portrait. The two adult-aged people waved quite enthusiastically at Logan; Ron squeezing Hermione’s hand to try and keep her from interrogating Logan right off the bat. Logan was immediately reminded of the whole barrage of Weasley people that had been mentioned in the list of Harry’s god-children earlier and raised a brow at the couple; but offered a quirk of his lips at them regardless.

“Professor Albus Dumbledore and Professor Severus Snape,” Harry finished off, pointing to each of the portraits respectively. Logan muttered a stiffly polite greeting to each; obviously out of his comfort zone. Finally, it seemed that Hermione could be contained no longer.

“So, how did you guys meet?” she asked, most likely assuming that since it included Harry, it must’ve been something spectacular.

“I was leaning against a door that happened to open behind me,” Harry said indignantly. Ron and Hermione shared a knowing look at one another, crooked smiles on their faces. Snape was, as usual, silent throughout the exchange. Although, probably only Albus or Lily would’ve caught the calculating gaze behind that stoic mask. “Anyway!” Harry said, eager to change the subject. “Did you need something?” he turned to Logan, who had a smirk still in place, knowing that Harry was trying to save himself from embarrassment.

“Nah, Chuck sent me here. Said to tell you that he’d like to have a talk with you sometime,” Logan shrugged. “No rush though. You know he’ll give you your space,” Logan nodded, feeling awkward trying to convey sympathy towards Harry’s past being dragged up earlier. Harry smiled softly, putting Logan to ease. He brushed off his pants and pushed off the ground.

“It’s alright; we can go now,” he said, holding out a hand to Logan. “Better get it over with now, yeah?” Logan eyed his outstretched hand with a raised brow but begrudgingly took it anyway. He was pleasantly surprised to be hefted up by Harry without overly exerting much effort. Logan turned to nod at the portraits once more just as Harry excused them and told them that he’d be back and not to ‘cause any trouble’; which confused Logan – how exactly were portraits supposed to get into trouble anyway?

“Not so fast, Potter,” Snape’s drawl caught Harry’s attention, instinctively flinching a little at the reprimanding tone – reminding him of all those times Snape would make him stay back after classes. He turned a little warily to face the portrait; a wariness that was quite to the amusement of Logan.

“Yes, Professor?” he said a little slowly, carefully.

“Take my portrait with you,” Snape said, raising Harry’s brow in confusion. Snape rolled his eyes and continued, “at least I’ll be there to make sure you don’t break down like an ungraceful fool.” Logan had an incredulous look at the obvious dissing being dished out and he turned to Harry; about to rant off how disrespectful the portrait was being, but stopped short. Harry was looking down at the portrait with soft eyes and a light smile on his lips.

“Okay,” was all Harry said as he bent down to pick up the portrait, muttering a reducio to make it a little smaller and easier to carry around. Before Harry had learned of Snape’s true involvement in his life, he had always been bitter towards the elder for the mistreatment towards him that seemed to have come out of nowhere. Even when he had tried to reconcile with Snape through the Stone and his portraits at times, the other would often be cold. However as he matured and was able to look at things in perspective, he realized that that was Snape’s way of being affectionate with him. Well, maybe he did get a little help from Draco who was the man’s godson and was very well versed in translating the sneers and jabs of their former Potions teacher.

Now, after so many years to get used to it, he was more or less attuned to instantly converting Snape’s insults into their true meanings. This time, the elder was expressing his wariness of leaving Harry to face the upcoming conversation alone and intended to be there for support – even if it meant barking at those who may hurt Harry from his place in a portrait.

Harry was also touched because this was probably one of the extremely few times that Snape had actively sought to be involved. He had a bubbly and light feeling swelling inside him – which didn’t go unnoticed by any of the other portraits if their knowing glances were any indication – and a much better mood as he ushered Logan along. Logan, obviously the only one there who had absolutely no idea what the hell was going on, frowned at Harry. Harry merely flicked his green gaze up at his once, smile still in place, and continued on his way.

Their walk back to Xavier’s office was uneventful and silent, but a companionable sort-of silence. None of them felt the need to speak. When they arrived, Logan knocked on the door in quick succession and the Professor called them in almost immediately after. Logan opened the door and jerked his head to motion for Harry to go on in. Harry’s brows lifted slightly and he smiled, dipping his head in thanks, making his way inside the room once more.

“Ah Harry,” the Professor said, rolling himself out from behind his desk. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Well, I decided that it’s best to get this out of the way sooner than later,” Harry shrugged, a corner of his lips turned up. Xavier dipped his head in understanding and held out a hand for the two to make themselves comfortable. He raised a brow at the rather large portrait that Harry held in his hands. He couldn’t see the picture itself though, since its back was facing him. Once they were seated, Harry spoke up before the Professor could.

“Um, sorry Professor,” he apologized first, much to Xavier’s confusion. “My uh… guardian wanted to hear this,” Harry barely heard Snape’s concealed scoff at the ridiculous title. Xavier eyed the back of the portrait speculatively, wondering why he’d brought a moving picture and how exactly was it meant to be linked to this… ‘guardian’ of his. Deciding to let the portrait do the talking, Harry set it down, propped up by his chair slightly so that they would all have a decent view of it. Xavier wasn’t really surprised to see the moving picture, as he had already seen Harry’s picture days before, but he was definitely in for a surprise when it spoke.

“Good evening,” Snape’s drawl seemed to calm Harry’s jumpy nerves as he kept his eyes on Snape’s confident form. Harry inwardly chuckled a bit – too bad he never inherited the confidence that was present in all witches and wizards that came from Old families. “I am Severus Snape,” Snape continued, “Mr Potter’s previous Professor.” Harry pursed his lips to prevent from laughing at the title in which Snape had chosen to introduce himself as.

“And a friend of the family,” Harry piped in. Xavier nodded and introduced both himself and Logan respectively.

“Ah, so you taught Harry in his school?” asked Xavier. Snape nodded and responded in an affirmative. “Well, your portrait certainly looks like it was done when you were in your prime, if I may say so myself.” Harry coughed.

“Um…” Harry’s eyes glanced at Snape who kept silent. “The portraits are merely a shadow of the person. They know no more nor less than what they did at the time it was painted.” Xavier nodded, his face showing pleasant interest as he took in the new information. Harry continued; “Snape was the Headmaster, during the… battle.” Both Xavier and Logan didn’t miss the past tense used.

“Ah yes, I was killed by the Dark Lord because even though ‘I was a good and faithful servant’, I was in the way of his immortality,” Snape spat scathingly. Anger bubbled up within Harry. On the sidelines, Xavier was shocked to hear that this man had been on the side that was opposing Harry’s. Logan’s eyes were narrowed, wary and yet confused as to why Harry would have a portrait of an enemy – a family friend even.

“Stop it!” Harry burst out, seething. Snape was startled to hear the husky tone bordering on his words; it was known among his friends that Harry’s words would start to sound progressively more like the Parseltongue that he had gotten from Voldemort whenever he was seriously angered. Since Parseltongue was a gift to be born with and not learnt, once an individual has the ability to speak it, they will never lose it.

“Why do you –” Harry shook his head and ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the inky strands in exasperation. “How can you say that?” he finally said, soft as a whisper. Snape eyed Harry, but his expression soon bled out into a soft affection at the boy defending him.

“Harry,” he sighed, shaking his head slightly. He didn’t need anyone to understand his actions aside from Lily and Harry himself. He didn’t care what anyone may think of him. And whilst the sentiment may be fine, Snape felt no need for Harry to defend him. He was content in the knowledge that at least Harry knew. That was all he cared about.

“No!” Harry’s outburst surprised everyone. All eyes were on Harry’s form, his shoulders trembling ever-so-slightly. “You are… the bravest man I ever knew,” Harry said slowly, measuring his words, but kept his eyes on the balled fists in his lap. “I can’t even… imagine, the things you went through. And you,” he turned his gaze on Snape, brows drawn and eyes pleading; “you had to endure hate from both sides.”

Snape’s hard mask was melting away as he looked into those enthralling green orbs, wishing for all the world that he could – for once – reach out and touch Harry. The boy he had watched over for so long; but always from afar. He craved to cradle the young man in his embrace, and take away all those years, place the burden on him instead. He would do anything, for him.

“Harry,” Snape repeated softly, as if tenderly approaching a child on the verge of a massive tantrum. “It’s enough for me. You should understand that although it my actions may have been borne out of my love for your mother, I have cared for you since I first saw you; in the Great Hall, in your first year. I didn’t care for you only at the end, Harry.” Snape’s comment was more than just a statement. It was the spark to a flame.

Harry’s mind supplied him the trail to set the fire ablaze; thinking back to the memories that Snape had given to him during the Battle. He recalled Dumbledore’s words; don’t tell me now, that you’ve grown to care for the boy. And the doe, the same one that had gave him hope during his journey for the Horcruxes. The same one that had led him to the Sword of Gryffindor, and Ron to him. Dumbledore’s incredulous voice again; after all this time? His mind jerked as the two ends connected and the connection sparked – Snape hadn’t only just looked out for him during that final year, he had always been watching over him.

“All of those actions, were for you,” Snape’s voice calmly brought him back. “So you being the only one who knows the truth – that is enough.” The warmth in his eyes seemed to penetrate Harry, warming his own heart and calming him down. Harry blinked, still upset and not satisfied, but touched nonetheless. “Now,” Snape continued, cool mask slipped back into place once more as he turned to eye the Professor with a sharp gaze. “I do believe that you were just about to have a talk?” he said a little smugly.

Harry sniffed once, shaking his head and nodded; remembering just why he was there in the first place. “I’m guessing you want to clear up some things that you heard earlier?” Harry deduced. Xavier nodded silently, a sombre expression on his features.

“Harry,” he said in a fatherly tone, “there is no rush. If you would rather keep it to yourself I would not object.” He already gathered from the earlier meeting that Harry’s life must have been a hard and trying one. After seeing the exchange between Harry and the figure portrayed inside the portrait, he felt even more like he was intruding. Although; he knew that individuals such as Harry would benefit so much just by unloading their burden. He didn’t want the man to have to keep it all to himself, but he didn’t intend to push him either. He was surprised to see Harry shake his head, although he also felt the relief flood into him that the boy understood the importance of sharing.

“No,” Harry cleared his throat, “that’s okay. I think I’ve got the gist of what you want to ask so… I think it’s better if I just tell you what I can for now, and you can ask me anything that I’ve missed out?” Harry proposed. Xavier was pleased with the offer and agreed. He watched in amusement as Harry turned to Logan, who was leaning against a nearby wall, and asked him to take a seat; saying that ‘this was going to take a while’. Logan snorted but smiled crookedly, obliging and taking a seat. Harry drew in a deep breath, letting it out a little shakily, glancing once more at Snape. Snape caught the gaze and nodded supportively, conveying that he would be right there should a need arise. Comforted, Harry turned determinedly and began to speak.

It wasn’t a life-story. It was more like a blurb; a brief summary. He touched over his birth and the murder of his parents. Living with the Dursleys. He became more descriptive when his Hogwarts letters arrived – along with the introduction to Hagrid; much to the amusement of Xavier and a bark of approving laughter from Logan. He talked about meeting Ron and Hermione, revealed his time under the sorting hat and explained the house system.

He skimmed over his Hogwarts years in a modest fashion – dismissing the Philosopher’s stone, his first Quidditch game his first Christmas present; the Chamber of Secrets, that useless idiot Lockhart, Riddle’s-diary form, quietly skipping over his Parselmouth ability. His quiet sigh when describing Professor Lupin – the best Professor he’d met; dementors and learning the Patronus charm, witnessing Professor Lupin’s change, saving Buckbeak. His gaze was clouded and yearning when he spoke of meeting his Godfather – Sirius’ offer to live with him once it was ‘all over’. A wry smile at remembering his brothers and sisters from the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. His tone detached when he described the magical events of the Triwizard Tournament, and Cedric’s death.

Xavier and Logan could both catch that that moment was most likely the moment that Harry truly came to terms to the burden placed on him. It was the first death he had witnessed, of the many that would harden his eyes one by one to become what they were now. Xavier lamented on the sad fact that Harry had merely been 14 at the time – much too young.

Harry bitterly recalled Umbridge’s reign during his fifth year and establishing the DA – absentmindedly rubbing the back on his right hand as he did. Two sets of eyes didn’t miss the movement at trailed after the movements but failed to see the faint etchings on Harry’s hand. Laughing at Fred and George’s dramatic entrance to the OWLs. A short moment of silence after Sirius’ death. A rueful smile appeared when Harry rode into his sixth year, surreptitiously stealing glances at an eye-rolling Snape. Speaking about Slughorn and the truth about Voldemort’s indestructibility – much to the horror and shock of his audience. Another silence at Dumbledore’s death, one that stabbed guilt into Snape’s features.

Amusement at the seven Potters, downplayed by Hedwig’s and Moody’s deaths. Dumbledore’s gifts to them. Their journey and finding the Horcruxes; breaking into the Ministry of magic with a wry smile. Half-lidded eyes speaking of his unfair treatment towards Ron – causing him to leave. Hearing the Tale of the Three Brothers for the first time in Xenophilius’ home. The snatches; Dobby’s fake-death. Harry’s eyes cast themselves downwards with the mention of each death, feeling them all over again and yet feeling lighter at the same time.

He breathed in deeply and pursed his lips, eyes coming back up with a strong gaze as he neared the end. Breaking into Gringotts; returning to Hogwarts. Acquiring the Ravenclaw diadem; Snape’s death – Harry looked over at Snape’s portrait with a sad look, but Snape merely nodded in understanding. Skimming over the more private features and uncovering his identity as the last, accidental horcrux. Harry felt somewhat detached as he saw Xavier and Logan’s wide eyes whilst he talked about confronting Voldemort, and taking the Killing Curse. Returning and finally; opposing Voldemort – Tom Riddle – for the final time.

Finally finished with what he considered the hard part, Harry rubbed his eyes and smiled softly. Then, using the Professor’s questions in his first night here as a guide, he went on to list off all the names that the wizarding press would print about him; ‘the Boy-Who-Lived’; ‘the Chosen One’; ‘Triwizard Champion’; ‘Undesirable Number One’. He good-naturedly rolled his eyes and chuckled softly – shaking his head and noting the fickleness of society. Using him as something to look up to, then something to blame when they didn’t want to face the facts and reality.

Harry talked about his journey back to Hogwarts when he was 23, picking up the Resurrection Stone and unknowingly becoming the Master of Death. He nodded when Xavier questioned it as the cause of his immortality. They didn’t push and he didn’t delve all too much into it – admitting that he himself is unsure whether or not he can or cannot die. Laughing and flushing slightly at the mentions of Harry being the youngest Head Auror ever. He had indulged Logan’s questioning about the career; and Logan had to admit that he was rather impressed and saw Harry in a respective light – like one soldier to another.

They confirmed that the photo Xavier had had a glimpse at were of Harry’s initial friends from school – from the DA. He spoke fleetingly of his time with them. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face when he spoke about Ron and Hermione – how she’d lectured and mothered him and how they’d all helped him with his becoming the Master of Death. He confirmed to an impressed Xavier that a witch or wizard’s lifespan usually played out to roughly 130 years on average and once again nodded that he had just come after his final friend’s funeral.

The conversation bled out slowly into more light-hearted chit-chat. A closer bond formed between Harry and the other two. Harry felt much better now that there were people who knew and he could act more normally around; not having to tip-toe cautiously in conversations. Time passed quickly and soon Harry found himself yawning. Xavier smiled and told him the he should return to his room and rest up for the night. Harry agreed and Logan offered to walk with him as they were going in the same direction. Logan and him spoke in soft tones as they walked; Logan asked simple, non-intrusive questions that Harry felt no problem in answering. As they arrived at Harry’s room, Harry bid Logan goodnight and Logan inclined his head; oddly feeling like he had travelled back in time to when he had had been drilled in the conventions of being a gentleman. Logan scoffed and shook his head as he turned and headed to his own room.

In Harry’s own, Harry greeted the portraits with a lethargic smile. He lazily levitated the portraits to line up along the wall across from his bed, and cast a sticking charm on them so as to hold them into place. He automatically felt his body go through the motions of brushing his teeth and changing whilst his mind wandered. Back at his bed, he pulled the covers apart and slid in languidly, a soft and contented sigh slipping from his lips to the amusement of his portraits. The rest excused themselves to wander off whereas Lily sat in her chair with James, humming a soft lullaby as Harry slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Somewhere way off in an unknown location, Agent Phillip Coulson was reporting in to base. Bypassing his usually friendly chats with the other Agents, he strode through the building with a purpose and a fire in his eyes. Reaching his destination, he stalked up to a tall dark-skinned man in black attire. The man, hearing footsteps approaching him, turned to see his trusty employee and nodded approvingly.

“Agent Co—”

“Don’t ‘Agent Coulson’ me, Director,” Coulson spat, much to the surprise of Fury and a few of the others within hearing range. “You owe me an explanation.”

Fury very nearly gulped at the uncompromising tone used by Coulson. Mentally slapping himself for losing his composure, Fury cast a firm gaze onto Coulson and silently signalled for them to take this elsewhere; a place more suitably private.

Once inside, he was levelled with a glare from Coulson. Sighing, he took a seat and indicated for Coulson to do the same; which he did. Preparing himself, Fury launched into a long explanation to Coulson’s silent question.